


Nothing But Trouble

by Trismegistus (Lebateleur)



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Established Relationship, Feels, First time (in a way), It's hard when your kid leaves home, M/M, Male Slash, Missing Scene, Mutual Pining, Parent Yondu Udonta, Requited Love, Requited Unrequited Love, Temporarily Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-30
Updated: 2017-07-30
Packaged: 2018-12-08 23:03:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11656518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lebateleur/pseuds/Trismegistus
Summary: The first time Yondu Udonta lets his first mate stay the night.  Set shortly after a certain conversation inGuardians of the Galaxy vol. 1.





	Nothing But Trouble

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MeganMoonlight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MeganMoonlight/gifts).



The captain is in a fine state when he returns to his quarters that night.

“You look fit to be tied,” Kraglin tells him, glancing up from the firearm he's polishing on his knee.

Yondu shoots him a look. “Don't you start in on me too,” he says, eyes narrowing, and Kraglin hears the “boy” on the end plain as if Yondu has said it, although he hasn't. He nods once in acknowledgment, keeps his face neutral, and returns his attention to his gun. Only after he's bent his head does he allow himself to smile. He loves Yondu like this, all fiery and worked up and when he gets this much in a lather over something there's only one way to calm him down.

“'Not gonna give me the orb.' Who does he think he is, after all I've done for him?”

“Ungrateful, is what I call it,” Kraglin offers, and starts to disassemble the firing mechanism.

“Worse than that!” Yondu says, and stalks into the head, slamming the door behind him. Kraglin hears the creak of leather as Yondu peels out of his gear, the flush of water into the wash basin, and then a series of loud splashes as Yondu sets to wiping off the day's grime. From the sound of it, the captain's going at it with a vengeance. Kraglin purses his lips, and whistles low to himself.

A little bit later Yondu reemerges, naked from the waist up, the skin of his neck and torso glistening where he hasn't bothered to towel the water off. His lips are pressed thin and the look he shoots Kraglin could fell an abilisk. He starts pacing the room, muttering under his breath. Kraglin ignores him and doubles down on his work. 

Gradually, the muttering turns into a growling, and then full fledged snarls, the words growing clearer each step of the way. Yondu's ranting, working himself up into a fine state as he paces back and forth across the room. No question it wouldn't sound good to anyone who happened to be passin' by outside, but Kraglin's not worried. It ain't the first time he's heard it before. Hell, it ain't even the first time he's heard it today.

“I took that boy in! I taught him how to fight! How to steal! How to _ravage!_ I kept him alive when my boys woulda sliced him into ribs and t-bones and had him on the grill faster'n a man could blink.”

“Didn't hand him over to his daddy, neither,” Kraglin interjects, not bothering to glance up from his work.

“Damn right I didn't!” Yondu barks. “And what kind of gratitude has it earned me?” He makes an obscene gesture. “All I done for that boy, and he don't feel any sense of ob- _li_ -ga-shun.”

Yondu's shoulders are tense as adamantine when Kraglin comes up behind him and sets his hands on them. He fans his fingers across Yondu's breastbone and digs his thumbs tight into the corded muscle of his back. By now, he knows exactly where the knots are and how to make the captain melt like butter beneath his fingers, but even so, tonight it feels like he's got to work twice as hard to get him there, like the knots are springing back into place as soon as his fingers move on. 

Still, it ain't long before Yondu's head drops to his chest, lolling like someone's sliced the sinews in his neck and he can't hold it up no more. He's still muttering, or trying to, and every now and then Kraglin catches the words “Quill” or “ungrateful bastard” or “teach him a lesson, see if I don't,” but now they're just as like to be interrupted by long exhalations or a low growl as Kraglin's thumbs work out a particularly tight spot.

Eventually, Yondu turns, and takes Kraglin by the back of the head, fingers curling hard around the nape of his neck. “Aw, come here, son, you know this ain't what I need,” he says. “This ain't gonna work me down. Ain't gonna do nothing but waste your time and mine.”

“Then how about this, Captain,” says Kraglin, and drops to his knees. It ain't long before he's got his captain's trousers open and Yondu's cock thrusting in and out of his mouth, pulsing and hard with indignation. Yondu's got both his hands on Kraglin's head, guiding him up and down. Kraglin has no doubt Yondu thinks he's setting the pace, but Kraglin knows his captain backwards and forwards by now, and how to make it seem like he ain't holding back when he is. Yondu's not going to get any satisfaction from him until he's good and ready to give it, and he's enjoying this too much right now to cut it all short.

Yondu's ranting has picked back up again, and he's cussing out Peter Quill something fierce as his hips buck. Only now the cussing's mixed up with little gasps and curses Yondu doesn't even know he's making. Kraglin can't help it. He smiles despite himself and hopes to all the cold dark universe the captain didn't see it. But of course, he has. Yondu takes him by the shoulders and yanks him to his feet.

Kraglin' been working at his own clothes the whole time he's been on his knees, so by the time Yondu stands him back up all he's got to do is shimmy his pants off and he ain't got nothing on from the waist down. The captain catches sight of Kraglin's cock, bobbing flushed and hungry in the air, and his eyes fire up even more than they already were. He grabs Kraglin and pushes him back till the edge of the bed catches the backs of his knees and he tumbles down onto it. The two of them work to get the rest of their clothes off, getting in each other's way as much as they're helping one another, while Yondu keeps talking 'bout all the things he's gonna do to Peter Quill once they catch him, even before he lets the rest of the boys have a go at him.

Kraglin snarls and grins, fierce and feral with joy. Yes, he loves his captain like this, and there ain't no one who can get him worked up this much but Quill. Yondu stops his tirade and blinks, as if he's seeing Kraglin—properly seein' him—for the first time tonight. “Y'always were a scrawny thing,” he says, and reaches his blunt blue fingers out to trail through the wiry hair on Kraglin's torso. Kraglin reaches for him too, puts his hands on Yondu's shoulders and runs them down Yondu's back to take him round the hips. He shuts his eyes and arches up, wordlessly, but he doesn't need to say anything anyway. Yondu knows what he's asking for.

Yondu's rough, rougher than he usually is but that suits Kraglin just fine, because for all his captain does the Ravager name proud he's got a soft side that comes out in the boudoir, although both of them pretend like it ain't there. And truth be told, Kraglin don't even mind it most of the time; a man can do with a little bit of tenderness in his life, especially a man in their line of work. But he likes his captain rough and demanding too, and he especially likes the challenge of taking Yondu's mind off of Quill and putting it onto _him_ , where Kraglin thinks it belongs. Right now, that's exactly where it is, judging by the look in Yondu's eyes. And that's the last thought Kraglin has before things turn hot and frantic and render him incapable of any thinking at all. 

Not long after they're done, Kraglin rises, turns to heft his legs over the edge of the bed. It's harder to do than he makes it look; it'd been a long night even before he'd made his way to Yondu's quarters. The Ravagers know their captain's on edge, and when that happens Kraglin has to work twice as hard to keep them in line, all the while making sure that one one could call what he's doing discipline, because that's something the crew will take from Yondu and no one else.

So he'd been tired even before the captain put him through his paces. But it won't do to take his time, no matter how hard his muscles are protesting. He doesn't think he'll ever forget the first night, when he'd been stupid enough to try stalling, hoping Yondu was the type to fall asleep right after so he could lie back down next to him and fall asleep too. But Yondu made it very clear he wasn't going to tolerate any of that foolishness, and the verbal thrashing he'd giving Kraglin had stung for _weeks_. 

Worse even than that had been that, for weeks after _that_ , it looked like Yondu'd been fixing to treat it like a one-time deal, like he was some Contraxian whore and not first mate at all. It'd taken a lot of fast talking when they were off duty and even more bootlicking than usual while on it until Yondu agreed to a second time. “I'm not saying you're not a good time, son,” Yondu had told him. “But this here's a ship, not a homestead. It's a big, scary world out there, but I still ain't about to go domestic for anyone in it.” 

Kraglin understands; he does. The captain can't be seen showing any particular favors to anyone, even his first mate. If he wants this, he gets up and goes when it's done. Those are the rules. So Kraglin's gonna stand up, same as he does every other night, walk out that door and back down the corridor to his own quarters, and he won't let it show--at all, to anyone--that his body is aching, and how it feels like his bones are tired, or that his heart is sore.

“I raised that boy,” says Yondu. Like my own son, he doesn't say, but Kraglin hears it anyway. He snaps around to look at the captain, but Yondu's got his back to Kraglin, his shoulders hunched up tight as if to say, I don't want no sympathy. Kraglin pauses and blinks, cause it's plain as day that just ain't true. He ain't never heard his captain admit anything like that before. Ain't never heard him sound so lonely, neither.

And it isn't something Yondu could ever say in front of the crew. They'd rip him to shreds in a heartbeat if he did. In fact, Kraglin ain't even sure how he feels about Yondu saying it--in a manner of speaking--in front of _him_. He probably spends five out of every ten waking minutes wishing he could float the captain out of an airlock, but that don't mean he actually wants to be handed the opportunity to do it, when you come right down to it. 

“Twenty-six years. Gotta be pretty stringy by now,” Yondu mutters, so low Kraglin all but can't make the words out. “Won't prob'ly taste good anymore, anyway.” 

Kraglin licks his lips, considers. Under the guise of drawing his boots on, he leans back until his hip bumps up against Yondu's back. Yondu grumbles, and shifts like he's makin' to push Kraglin from the bed. But he's hardly trying and when Kraglin holds his ground, Yondu just sort of settles against him. 

Kraglin takes a deep breath, drops the pretense and puts his hand on Yondu's shoulder. Yondu doesn't shrug it off. And when Kraglin lies down and puts his arm around Yondu's chest, Yondu doesn't shrug it off then either. 

“Imma miss that boy,” Yondu says to the wall. And then, with a little more force, “Imma still kill him once we catch him, mind, but Imma miss him.”

“Me too, Captain,” says Kraglin into Yondu's neck, low enough that Yondu can ignore him if he chooses. Yondu does ignore him, but he also lets Kraglin press close up against him, and doesn't even pretend he's trying to kick him out until well after they wake up the next morning.

**Author's Note:**

> Dear MeganMoonlight - I really dug your prompts for these two! Thanks for providing such fun ideas to write from, and I hope you enjoy reading the results.


End file.
